บททั้งหมดของ Divorced My Husband And Found Love: บทที่ 191 - บทที่ 200

Third person povCalix had been staring for so long his eyes burned, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the phone on his desk. It sat there quiet, accusing, pulsing with the weight of every choice he’d made in the last twenty-four hours.Delilah’s voice still echoed in his head.If you want to protect her, start by listening to her.He had brushed it off earlier, too irritated, too defensive to let her words sink in. But now, as the house settled into its late-night silence and the world outside his windows dimmed into shadow, the truth gnawed at him.He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even embarrassed.He was… unsettled.Because he didn’t know if Delilah was wrong.Calix exhaled loudly and dragged a hand down his face. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair.The lamp on his desk cast a soft, warm halo over the polished wood. Files sat unopened. Emails blinked unanswered on his monitor. None of it mattered. Not when Delilah’s words kept replaying in hi

Jace's povI barely slept. Not the normal “toss and turn because life is stressful” kind of no-sleep… my body was awake and my soul was broken on the floor. That was the kind of sleeplessness. My brain spun between all the things that happened the previous day, Naomi’s face, the argument with my father, the things I said, the things I didn’t say, and the things I wish I could shut off completely.By the time my phone vibrated at a few minutes past eight in the morning, I was trying to choke down a mug of lukewarm coffee—a weak attempt at resuscitating my brain.My phone pinged with a text just as Mason walked into the kitchen.“What's up, buddy? You're feeling better?” He asked.I nodded. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”My phone pinged with another text and I picked it up.Marcus Maddox: Let's meet up.Marcus Maddox: Maddox Security H.Q. 9am.I dropped the mug from my mouth in shock, sloshing coffee onto my shirt. “Seriously?” I muttered to no one in particular.“What's going on?

Jace's povI watched her walk toward the SUV, and every muscle in my body clenched, waiting for the hesitation. Waiting for the fear to win. I half-expected her to change her mind, turn around. But she didn't. She faltered for only a second, with just a tiny hitch in her step, before closing the distance between us. The sound of hundreds of teenagers flooding the walkways, their laughter and chatter echoing off the brick walls of the school, faded to a distant hum. All I could hear was the frantic drumming of my heart, even before she reached me, even before she threw her arms around my neck.I hugged her back, my own chest tight with the relief that she was actually here and that I hadn't messed this up irreparably. My knuckles brushed against the soft leather of her backpack as I held her, trying to commit the feeling of her small, solid body against mine to memory."Hi," I murmured.She didn't answer, just squeezed tighter, a silent communication of relief that said everything

Third person's POV Liora rose from her front-row seat when the host called her name. The movement was unhurried, controlled, almost too calm for someone suddenly carrying the weight of an entire project. Her blazer caught the overhead lights as she stepped into the aisle, and her tall frame drew several immediate glances. Even the researchers who had been whispering moments before paused, their eyes tracking her as she walked.She didn’t look nervous. At least, that was how it appeared from the outside. Her posture stayed straight, her expression steady. Each step felt intentional, the way someone who understood the seriousness of the moment would move. And yet nothing about her body language hinted at fear. If anything, she looked like someone who belonged on that path between seat and stage.The room seemed to adjust around her instead, as if acknowledging her presence without being told to. For a moment, the vast summit hall fell into a hush. Even those in the farthest rows seeme

Naomi's pov“Are you sure you’ve seen this one, Delilah? It’s Vogue worthy, I swear.”I watched Harper stab a fork into a piece of French toast before promptly using the same hand to point out different designs drawn on the leatherback journal on the antique mahogany of our dining room table. She then leaned back dramatically, allowing the morning sunlight to catch the glitter on her eyelids.“It’s beautiful, Harper,” Mum replied rather patiently, trying to eat her scrambled eggs amidst the escalating chaos. “The stitching on that corset sketch is really detailed.”“Right?” Harper practically glowed at the praise. “And wait until you see the mood board for the spring collection. It’s a tragedy that I had to do all this work in the guest room. The lighting in there is, like, a crime against artistry.”Harper’s ‘tour’ of her latest fashion portfolio—a massive collection of sketches, fabric samples, and magazine tear-outs—had taken over breakfast within minutes, forcing Dad and me to dri